


"Caterina... did they...?"

by Espereth



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:37:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espereth/pseuds/Espereth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of Caterina Sforza's experience of captivity at the hands of Cesare Borgia, the aftermath, and Ezio's response to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Caterina... did they...?"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Assassin's Creed KinkMeme: http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1145.html?thread=10586489#cmt10586489

In her dingy cell in the Castel Sant-Angelo, Caterina Sforza woke to the sound of men arguing. One was young, his voice strained tight with anger; the other middle-aged, quiet and contemptuous. Cesare and Rodrigo Borgia. Caterina's stomach sank with dread as they approached. She had been expecting them.

Caterina had resolved from the moment of her capture at Monteriggioni that she would not allow Cesare to make her scream, or cry. She stood up, her face calm, fighting to remain expressionless; but she knew her eyes would betray her fury.

 _Ezio_ , she thought. I know you are coming. But you are too late.

In swept Cesare, tall and imposing. Rodrigo followed him, fat and shuffling. Cesare unlocked Caterina's cell and looked her over. As she had expected, he saw the suppressed anger in her eyes and smirked.

"Good evening, Contessa Sforza." Cesare bowed with mock gallantry. "I thought it was time I paid a visit to an honoured guest - but on the way, I remembered you." He reached for her hand. It took all of Caterina's self-control, but she calmly let him lift it and kiss the backs of her fingers. She forced herself not to shudder.

"The Pope has accompanied me, at his insistence," said Cesare, indicating his father with a sweeping gesture. "I believe he intends to prevent me from killing you." 

Rodrigo ignored her, his fat face unreadable.

"You made your first mistake at Forli, Contessa," Cesare said, "when you conspired with the Assassini and took up arms beside them. But that was only one of your many mistakes." He took both of her hands and stood looming over her, narrowed eyes staring into hers. "You must regret whoring yourself to Ezio Auditore." He laid one hand on her hip and drew her close.

Caterina forced herself to breathe evenly as Cesare's lips traced an eyebrow, then a cheekbone. His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. "Is that the way women conduct politics? If so, your time with me will be a mere shift in alliances." 

"Nothing to say?" He smirked. "This silence is a talent I did not know you possessed, Contessa. It suits you well. You know, I may yet forgive you all of these errors, Caterina. You may come out of this dungeon, any time you wish." Cesare's tone was sickeningly courteous. "It does get cold in here at night. If you prefer to spend your nights warm and comfortable in my chambers, you have only to say the word." 

Caterina's eyes answered for her, despite her efforts to control her hatred. Cesare laughed, and turned to Rodrigo.

"She reminds me of my favourite horse when I was a boy."

Rodrigo sighed. "I remember that horse, Cesare. I gave her to you."

"So you did, Father. Do you want to know what happened to my horse, Contessa?" Cesare continued. "I don't expect you do. I'll tell you anyway."

"Stop playing games," said Rodrigo. "We do not have all night. Do what you want to do, or I will have her first."

"Come back later if you don't want to wait your turn," Cesare said, and Rodrigo let his son's insolence pass.

Cesare leaned in close to her face. Caterina met his eyes without a trace of fear.

"That horse despised me - I cannot think why - and every day she fought me. Many times she threw me. As I grew older, stronger, I bent her to my will. But I never managed to break her. I could ride her into the ground, and still she would stamp and snort and glare at me with eyes full of fire and hate. She fought me every day of her life. Until, one day, I rode her so hard that she dropped dead beneath me." 

Caterina's expression did not change. 

"I believe you are very much like that horse, Caterina Sforza," Cesare said. He laughed and cupped her chin. "Look at you; you might be an old brood mare, but you are still one of the handsomest and most spirited women I have ever met." He bent to kiss her mouth. Then he swore and pushed her away, blood trickling from his lower lip where she had bitten him.

Caterina spat his blood on the floor and broke her silence at last. "Cowardly _pezzo di merda_ , do you think I am Lucrezia, to simper and smile while you fuck me? You foolish little boy - your horse had more sense than your _puttana_ sister -"

The rest of what she had to say was cut off as Cesare backhanded her across her mouth. Her head snapped sideways and pain rang through her neck and jaw. Half-blinded, she rounded on him and slapped his face as hard as she could. Cesare shook his head, stunned. The blow could not really have hurt him; but he had not been expecting her to strike him back, and the surprise on his face gave her some satisfaction.

"Perhaps you need me to hold her down for you, Cesare," Rodrigo said, bored.

"No! I don't need you for anything. Leave me alone." Cesare wiped his mouth and flicked blood from his fingers in disgust. He drew his sword and held it to Caterina's face. "Your filthy mouth is no match for my blade, Contessa," said Cesare. "Let's see how spirited you are now."

***

Caterina had lost track of time. Days and nights blurred together in her lightless cell. She lay on the floor and tried to think of nothing. 

She ached all over, but right now the pain was worst in her hip. How she had grown to despise Lucrezia Borgia over the last few days! Cesare had obviously told her what he had done - and the pathetic little wretch had come to beat her with an iron bar, jealousy giving her strength Caterina had not expected from her scrawny frame. 

The contessa was dozing when she heard footsteps approaching, and shuddered. Not again. She could not bear it again.

But something was different this time. The footsteps were those of a man in armor; probably a man of around Cesare's height and weight. But whoever he was, his steps had a wary edge to them, as though they belonged to someone with no right to be where he was.

 _Ezio! It must be!_

As hope kindled in her for the first time in so long, she stood, and composed herself. Bad enough that Ezio should see her filthy in tattered undergarments - but she would not have him see her weak.

***

Ezio's hands sought hers through the bars of her cell. His face was sleepless and careworn, his eyes hollow. He looked at Caterina with searching, desperate eyes, and his hands gripped her own so hard it hurt. She felt a twinge of satisfaction at the evidence of how he had suffered through the past weeks, although none of this was truly his fault. 

"Get me out of here, Ezio!" she said. "Lucrezia has the key - the little bitch - you'll find her in her courtyard. Be careful, Ezio. She has her guards with her."

"Her guards will be no trouble for me," he said. "Stay where you are." They kissed quickly through the bars. 

"Where else would I go!" she hissed after him. But when his back retreated, jogging lightly down the hallway, her bravado faded and she slumped against the cell wall, shaking. _Come back to me quickly, Ezio,_ she prayed. _I won't last here much longer._

Good as his word, Ezio returned - and to Caterina's amazement, he thrust Lucrezia before him with her arm twisted behind her back. Ezio's face was flushed with embarrassment, and Caterina realized he had been too much the gentleman to search the girl. It was more respect than Lucrezia deserved. 

And Caterina had no such qualms. "Bring her over here," she demanded. 

"Put me down, you oaf," Lucrezia said, struggling in great indignation as Ezio shoved her towards the cell. "Cesare will kill you both, and I will - ugh! Get your filthy hands off me! _Puttana_ -"

Lucrezia's eyes met Caterina's, full of hate. Caterina wished she could find it in herself to pity the woman. Envious for the disgusting attentions of _Cesare Borgia_ \- her own brother. She was beneath contempt.

Caterina forced a facade of bravado as she thought about the reason for Lucrezia's jealous rage. " _Salute_ , Lucrezia. How I've missed you." 

" _Vai a farti fottere, troia_."

"Always a pleasure," Caterina said drily. She thrust her hand down the bodice of Lucrezia's ridiculous dress, ignoring the younger woman's outraged gasp. Caterina's fingers found warm iron. "Classy." She retrieved the key, and reached through the bars of her cell to unlock it.

"Slut - you are not worth my brother's time -"

"Enough out of you," Caterina said, and eased her feelings by seizing Lucrezia by the hair and slamming her blonde head into the bars of the cell. Her thin body crumpled and Caterina saw the corner of Ezio's mouth twitch in amused satisfaction. Maybe he could not bring himself to harm the stupid girl, but Caterina had no hesitations. She locked the cell, with Lucrezia in it. Let Cesare find his own repellent sister, mad as a stray cat, when he came visiting.

"Can you walk, Caterina?" Ezio said urgently.

She stood straight, testing her injured hip, but pain engulfed her in a wave, draining the blood from her head. Fighting back a cry she let Ezio support her. 

"...No," she admitted, and he swept her into his arms. After the humiliations she had suffered in the Castello, the shame of being unable to walk on her own was hardly worth worrying about. 

She drifted in a haze of pain and shock as Ezio hurried through the halls, pausing or doubling back now and then to evade guards. She was dimly aware that they were speaking, and that the effort of summoning her wits to voice her thoughts kept her from thinking about what would happen if they did not escape - if Ezio didn't get her out of this shit hole. She would seek death rather than face Cesare again.

And eventually, just as she had feared, here it was - the question she knew was coming.

"...Caterina," Ezio said hesitantly. "Did they-? Did Cesare-?"

Why couldn't he just shut up about it? What did he expect her to say?

"No." Her answer came too quickly, and she prayed he did not notice. She would not shame herself further by having him know what Cesare had done to her. "My name must still have some value," she said. "I was left... unspoiled."

She felt the muscles of his arms and chest relax against her. He belived her. Thank God for that. 

She remembered little of the rest of their escape. How Ezio managed to get her near-unconscious form outside the castello walls, she did not know. Everything was red and black and fuzzy. Pain spiked through her hip with each jolt of her body. Then she was being pushed upright, and her hands laid against the hard, live warmth of a horse's neck. The smell of the animal was familiar, comforting. She had been such a fine horsewoman, once. Absurdly, she stroked the beast's coarse neck in greeting, as though time had stopped.

Ezio was shouting at her. "Get up, Caterina!" He pushed her into the saddle. Her hands fell to take the reins. Her horse shifted its feet with the sudden weight and she felt it testing her. 

She ignored the pain wracking through her as her body moulded to the animal. Even in this state her rider's instincts were sufficient to assert her authority, and the horse quieted in attention. 

"Go," Ezio ordered. He directed her horse's head. "That way." She held tight; Ezio gave her horse's rump a sharp smack and they were off. 

Through the gates of the Castello Sant-Angelo and onto the bridge. She did not care what was ahead; she would not stop now. She urged her horse faster, digging it in the ribs with her bare heels. Armored men lined up before her. But there was Ezio on horseback, drawing ahead with sword in hand; and blood arced into the sky as he cut a path to freedom.

***

As the doctor frowned over the rattle in her chest, her hollow cheeks and too-prominent ribs, Caterina heard Ezio pacing outside the infirmary door at Tiber Island. She had fainted in his arms when he had lifted her down from her horse, and he would not forget about it. 

Caterina was feeling more like herself after some rest, and a meal of hot clear soup and a little bread - all she could handle, after months on next to nothing. She had said she felt better, but still Ezio waited. He had not yet changed out of his armor, and she heard the soft clink of steel and fine leather as he walked up and down outside in the hallway.

The doctor gently lifted Caterina's left arm, and she gasped as pain shot through her shoulder. Yet another injury she had not noticed in the mess of bruises that her body had become.

"I am sorry, Contessa," the doctor said. He was a young man; a boy, in Caterina's view, barely into his twenties. Talented but inexperienced, he was also an Assassin, although not a fighter. 

"It is nothing, Mino," she told him. "Do what you need to do."

She had been dubious about Mino's skill, at first, but he had shown soon enough that her doubts were unfounded. 

Her hip had proved to be dislocated - whether from Lucrezia's efforts with her iron bar or from some part of the escape, she wasn't sure. But after a minute of agony that no safe dose of medicine could suppress, during which the doctor directed two strong Assassins to set her displaced bone correctly in its socket, the lancing pain subsided to a dull thudding ache which was easier to bear. 

Mino's gentleness and calm discretion as he treated the most intimate of her wounds made her sure that he had done the same for other women prisoners of the Templars. The thought made her fume. How long would the women of Roma have to suffer under these abuses? How long would men permit their sisters, their wives and daughters to be humiliated in such a way?

Now the doctor felt her shoulder with careful fingers, assessing the injury.

"This will heal with time, I believe," he said. "I will fetch a sling for you to wear."

Caterina nodded absently. A second pair of footsteps approached outside the closed door, light and hesitant. In her months of captivity, she had become accustomed to listening acutely to footsteps - partly because there was nothing else to do, but also in order to gauge the mood of anyone who approached her cell.

" _What do you want?_ " came Ezio's voice.

" _Messer Niccolò has asked me to summon you, Maestro._ "

" _Tell him I am busy._ "

" _Maestro -_ "

" _Do not make me repeat myself, Recluta,_ " Ezio told the unfortunate messenger in dangerous tones. " _Off with you._ "

The light footsteps padded back the way they had come, a little faster than they had approached.

" _Merda,_ " Caterina heard Ezio mutter.

"You may get dressed again, Contessa," Mino said. She laced up her clothes as he packed away his equipment. Then the young doctor glanced at the door where his master waited impatiently. "Shall I let him in?"

"I suppose so." She sighed. "But Mino - you must not mention - "

"Of course, Contessa." He nodded respectfully. "I have no need to discuss your condition with anyone but you." He opened the door, and Ezio entered, his face dark with worry.

***

In the weeks and months that followed, Caterina began to heal. Mino's calm competence sped her body's recovery. Although she wanted nothing more than to leave the crumbling chaos of Roma behind, with all its memories, she was not well enough to travel; and besides, with war wracking the countryside and her own lands fallen to the Templars, there was nowhere safer or more restful for her to go.

There was plenty to do around Tiber Island. Caterina's sharp mind had not been dulled by captivity, and she found herself scouring maps and documents with intensity. Reports of army movements and diplomacy came in a steady stream, as Ezio's fighters kept their communication channels open. Niccolo Machiavelli was here - a fast friend from a lifetime ago, and an excellent companion. She sought his company as often as she could, and as before their two analytical minds played off each other.

Caterina found, as well, that she had retained many interesting pieces of information from her guards at the castello. They had not believed her to be capable of using their idle talk as intelligence. Whether that was because they assumed her to be a feeble-minded woman, or because they never expected her to escape made no difference.

When her mind was spent from strategy and intrigue, she took up menial tasks with the rest of the Assassini. There were no servants at Tiber Island - anyone brave and true enough to be in the employ of the Assassins had more important things to do. A level-headed common woman was invaluable when installed as a maid for an influential family, or sent to serve in a tavern frequented by enemy soldiers. A capable old stable hand, who had never so much as touched a sword, made an excellent spy. How wasteful it would be to have such people waiting on the Brotherhood.

Her seemingly boundless enthusiasm for work concealed the fact that Caterina could not sleep or even sit idle without panic rising inside her as her mind returned to the Castello in flashbacks so vivid they felt real. When she did sleep, she would wake with a scream, struggling up from her dreams with her bedding in a sweat-soaked tangle. Young Mino gave her worried glances once or twice when he caught her shaking, but his time was absorbed with tending wounded men and women.

So Caterina mended clothes, swept floors and tended horses. Such work was unfamiliar to her, of course, but she found that she was glad to do it. Everyone worked at Tiber Island. Birth meant little among the Assassini - rank was everything. It was no longer strange to her to see proud youths of noble birth submitting without question to the orders of a merchant's son, or a former courtesan. 

She rarely saw Ezio. He was busy, of course, but Caterina suspected as well that he was avoiding her. They had exchanged few words since Caterina's escape. Until, one day, he approached her as she was tending horses in the stables. 

"Contessa," he said with a bow, stiff and formal.

She sighed inwardly, straightening to brush off her hands. Would it ever relax between them?

"Ezio."

"I am to meet with Niccolò, Volpe and Claudia this evening at the _Rosa in Fiore_ ," he said. "We have much to plan. Bartolomeo d'Alviano may come, if he can. Would you join us?"

"There's little point my staying here if I don't, is there? Yes, Ezio, I will join you."

"Excellent. We are all grateful that you have agreed to stay to give your counsel."

"You are most welcome," she said. What a ridiculous conversation. What was wrong with him? It had been this way ever since their escape from the Castello. 

The thought of that place brought on the panicked dizziness that had become familiar to her. _Not now_! She braced a hand on the stable wall, fighting the flashback. _Not in front of him_!

But there was no use - cold sweat broke over her and she began to shake. She felt the cold stone floor, smelled the stench of the prison. She heard footsteps outside her cell, and men's voices. Ezio caught her by her upper arms, his face grim with concern, and guided her to sit on a clean pile of hay.

"You are safe, Caterina," he said, and despite herself, she leaned against him letting him hold her hands. Eventually she returned to the stable with the smell of clean straw and the sound of horses, shifting and snuffling. The horse she had been seeing to draped her head over her stall and nudged Caterina with curiosity. Caterina breathed deeply until she was calm again.

Ezio sat beside her in silence, resting his forearms on his thighs. "Caterina. I know you lied to me, before," he said eventually.

"About what?" She stalled. Oh, would he never shut up?

"I know that in your position, you must... ah, negotiate," he said. "I understand what you said, about politics." He gently touched her arm. "If you and Cesare became lovers -"

"We did not 'become lovers', Ezio!" she said, throwing his hand off and standing up. He looked up at her, stunned. She was so angry she could hardly speak. He held up his hands to placate her.

"Shh, Caterina, I meant no offense." He looked around, knowing from experience how her voice carried when she was roused to anger.

"Don't you tell me to be quiet!" She shouted. "You think that because I bedded _you_ , I would bed _anyone_? That I do not care who has me - even that piece of shit? How dare you. I did not bed him, you slug-witted idiot. He held a blade to my throat and forced me!"

"Caterina, I'm sorry -" he said, standing and half-reaching for her again, but withdrew when she backed away.

"I suppose you wonder why I did not choose to die, rather than be dishonoured by a Templar - one who conquered my own lands, no less! I, who fought beside men with a blade in my hand - to defend my home, and then yours! Well, I wanted to. I wanted to fight, and force him to kill me. But instead, I froze." Her hands were trembling. "You cannot possibly understand." 

"Forgive me, Caterina," he said. "I did not think -"

"No, you didn't think - _stronzo_ \- and you took your sweet time in coming to get me from that shit-hole. Yes, I lied to you before. Cesare took his pleasure, whenever he pleased - usually, when he was straight from the field and covered with the blood of our own allies. And when he had finished, he gave me to Rodrigo. So now you know, and I will leave Roma for I cannot stand the shame of it."

"Don't, please," he said. "Not because of me. I'm a fool, Caterina."

"Yes. You are," she told him. 

He was pale with horror, and guilt. That gave her some satisfaction, and her rage abated somewhat.

"I will meet you tonight, Ezio, at the _Rosa in Fiore_. Now go away, before you make me shout again - the horses have had enough of it."

***

"Hunting?" Caterina blinked at Ezio in surprise.

He nodded. "It is not such an absurdity as you think. I am to visit Pantasilea D'Alviano, and it occurred to me that you should meet with her too. That part of the countryside is quite safe, now that we control it. It would be a pleasant journey."

Caterina had been a fine hunter, with a keen eye and steady hands. She had seen Ezio's archers training, and felt sure that she could have given some of them a run for their money, in accuracy if not in reach. She doubted she had the strength now to draw a bow now, though. But to leave these stone walls was a tempting thought.

Ezio shifted his feet. "Of course, if you're not yet well enough..."

"No - perhaps not for hunting," she said. "But a ride would be a welcome distraction."

A grin lit up his face, making him look ten years younger. 

"Then come and see what I've got for you," he said. 

In the stables was a pretty little roan mare, young and finely built. An obvious peace offering, but Caterina could not hide her pleasure as the mare mouthed her hand curiously and huffed warm breath into her palm. 

"She may be small, but she is spirited," Ezio promised, and as if to agree the mare snorted and shifted her weight, pushing her strong neck against Caterina to give her a cheeky little shove.

"Oh no you don't," Caterina said, laughing, and stood her ground stilling the mare's head by her halter. The horse tossed her head and fidgeted but soon deferred to Caterina's firm hands.

"I knew you would get along," Ezio said. 

They set out. Ezio's mount was a tall grey gelding. Fiametta - little flame, as Caterina had decided to call her, for her fiery temperament, dainty build, and shining red coat - nipped at the gelding's flank, but the grey only swished his tail as if such games were far beneath him.

Caterina was pleased to find that her body was fit for riding. Her muscles would feel it tomorrow, but she found that neither her hip nor her shoulder bothered her. The wind and sun felt good on her face. 

Fiametta was eager, and Caterina had to hold her back as they travelled towards Bartolomeo D'Alviano's stronghold. Eventually she let the little mare have her head, and before she knew it, she and Ezio were racing. 

The gelding's longer legs soon outstripped Fiametta but the mare was a racer by nature, and she followed close behind, kicking up her feet in excitement. They came to the edge of a forest and now Fiametta, small and darting, had the advantage. Caterina guided her with a sure hand through the trees and they gained ground. Fiametta's petite build and light feet - as well as Caterina's excellent horsemanship - won out, and at the end of the wood they were ahead. 

By now Fiametta was foaming and blowing, her body slick with sweat, and though she showed no signs of wanting to stop, Caterina drew her head up to slow her. 

The edge of a creek glimmered beside a cluster of trees, and Caterina headed for it. As soon as she pulled Fiametta to a stop, Caterina's thighs and calves went to water. She slid out of her saddle. To hide her sudden weakness she leaned against Fiammetta's hot damp body and felt a light shudder ripple through the mare from shoulder to haunch.

She stroked the mare's wet neck and praised her in soft tones. But Ezio had seen her stumble and soon he was at her side. She felt his hand light on her back, between her shoulders. 

"Are you well, Caterina?"

"Of course," she said, turning to him with a smile. In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks. But seeing a pile of soft leaves at the foot of a tree, she led her mount with her and lay down. Just a moment's rest, she thought.

After so many nights of broken sleep she had not realised how tired she was, and she fell asleep almost the instant her head touched the sun-warmed leaves. She slept blissfully - no dreams to torment her.

The air was cool and the sun burned low when she woke to the sound of Fiammetta munching grass near her right ear. She found Ezio's cape draped over her. 

Fiametta nudged her with her shapely head, and Caterina stroked her ears. She leaned against the horse's strong body as she stood. Running her hands over the mare, she found that she had been groomed well, her body brushed clean of sweat and smooth to the touch.

Then Ezio returned from the creek. He had been washing, or perhaps swimming. His hair was loose and dripping, his shirt clinging to his damp chest, dark tight-curled hair under light cotton. The sunset made his skin burnished brown and caught his amber eyes, full of dark warmth. 

A year ago, she would have pushed him down to that pile of leaves, then straddled him to tear off his shirt. She would have run her hands over his hot, hard shoulders, over the damp curled hair on his chest and his firm flat belly. She would have kissed his scarred, sensual mouth until he could not breathe. And then, they would not have risen until they were both entirely satisfied... which could have taken no small amount of time.

She shook her head, dislodging the foolish daydream. 

"I'm sorry, Ezio," she said. "We are supposed to be travelling, and all I did is sleep." She handed him his cloak and their hands brushed. 

"We don't have far to go," he said. "And it was good to see you resting," he added quietly, his eyes soft. The longing to touch him, to feel his lips on hers was too much, and she reached for him, drawing him close.

She saw a flash of raw desire cross his face, and for a moment she was afraid. But when Ezio bent to kiss her, his mouth was gentle, even hesitant. His lips parted in answer to the tip of her tongue, and not before. He held back, even when his breath came faster and she heard soft grunts of pleasure from the back of his throat.

When she drew away slightly, he swallowed and straightened. He squeezed her hand, his fingertips lingering. Then he let go, and turned to fetch his horse.

They rode for the headquarters of the _mercenario_ , at an easy pace in the evening light. The air between them was easier, now, despite the kiss, and she knew Ezio would not demand anything more. They could be allies, friends, or more; or perhaps they did not need to know exactly what this was. The choice was hers.


End file.
